


Convalesce | Levi x Reader

by Eiri



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6806944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eiri/pseuds/Eiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fresh out of final exams and heartbreak, (F/n)’s plan for the summer involved stuffing her face with ice cream as she attempts to move on. Her friends however, had a different idea. </p><p>But summer vacation doesn’t go quite as planned when (F/n) wakes up after a night with friends, only to realize that she's married. And not just to anyone, because she somehow managed to tie the knot with successful recluse CEO, Levi Ackerman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistakes In Drinking

It was a burning feeling by your chest and waist, that pulled you slowly out of sleep, your hazy mind—which was sprouting the beginnings of a dreadful headache—coming to terms with itself, that going out into a club to celebrate the end of final exams, probably wasn’t a good idea after all.

  
Okay, sure, of course it was an amazing feeling that you were finally done with what felt like endless days of burying your nose in textbooks, and straining to keep reading power point presentations, with a blaring laptop screen at twelve midnight.  
  
It’s just that, the moment you stirred out of sleep just a couple seconds ago, it didn’t feel like you went on a celebration last night, but a war of sorts, with the way your joints ached and popped at the very slightest of movements, and how, when your eyes caught a flutter of the smallest ray of soft sunshine, it felt as if someone fried those (e/c) orbs with a torch blower at the highest setting.  
  
To sum up everything in a synonymous event, you felt like a trapeze artist at some circus, except when you jumped and stretched your hands for your awaiting partner, your partner kind of just sat back and watched as you fell, flat against the wooden boards of a stage below with a crash.  
  
Minus all of the gore, of course.  
  
In any case, you’ve gotten drunk enough times to know you were having a hangover, and became a certain kind of  _drunk_ , once or twice before, to know what it feels like to completely lose it the night before (mostly by way of drinking games that got way out of hand).  
  
But it was never to a degree where slamming your head against a wall entered your mind as a possible remedy to the pain swimming around in your head. Sure, the previous times were bad, but you knew there was something that set this hangover apart from the previous times, when not even a single scrap of yesterday’s events could be recalled from your blurry repertoire of memories.  
  
You also knew your tolerance level to alcohol, and you always did handle yourself well as it wasn’t really a good image for someone in the scholarship list to get wasted. Right now however, it was safe to assume you got beyond that limit and was completely knocked out drunk seeing as you don’t remember anything after that one too many tequila shots with a guy your age.  
  
You do remember you were in a different country though, and the hazy sounds of you shouting to your friends over strings of bass and flashing colored lights was enough proof that you did get into that high class bar your friends wanted to bring you to.  
  
But that was as far as your memory went regarding the events of last night.  
  
You see, for the past few days you’ve been second-guessing yourself, just spending the days picking out all the flaws you could see in yourself before blowing it up to unrealistic proportions.  
  
Most of the time, you thought about what went wrong most of these days.  
  
Your studies were not too good, but it wasn’t under the definition of bad either. You also had supportive friends that lightened up your days with incessant banter, and your family wasn’t suffering financially, though you do admit a few more zeroes in your parents’ collective income would have been nice.  
  
Romance on the other hand, well that was the problem.  
  
Since the end of year term exams were coming up, you thought maybe final exams, and last minute homework were the only thing you’d have to trouble yourself with.   
  
But just before you were going into your first test of the week, your boyfriend-now-ex of six months asked you to meet with him before your exam, just to prove to you that the week could honestly be more stressful than it already was, when he told you that he just doesn’t think things would work between you anymore.  
  
He just said he wanted out, and left without even giving you a proper explanation or letting you speak. Just blurted a measly sentence and turned away muttering something about needing to get to his first exam, without so much as a look back at you who was standing in the entrance of the arts building, with a searing cup of coffee in your hand, whose burns couldn't possibly add more to the pain you were already feeling.  
  
You honestly thought you were doing fine.  
  
You guessed at some point you did anticipate a break up, because you knew the both of you had been growing apart the last month. The difference between you two however, was that you were willing to make the effort and fix the relationship up.  
  
You did like him after all, that’s why you were in a relationship in the first place.  
  
It was only a few days later, when you found out the break up was probably a blessing, seeing as rumors started spreading around the hallways that your ex apparently had been seeing someone else behind your back, for quite a good amount of time into the duration of his relationship with you.  
  
And it wasn't necessarily hard to find out whether the rumors were true, especially when the girl he'd cheated on you with, came rubbing it into your face, that she snagged the popular engineering student from right under his high school sweetheart's nose.  
  
You felt humiliated and pissed off enough to go marching into your ex’s dorm room and deliver him a kick down below, strong enough to ensure you that he would have no hope of passing any of his genetic information. Needless to say, your friends supported the idea, but final exams were currently on-going, and you honestly cared more enough about you and your friends' grades than some couple who wasn't worth your time.  
  
Fast forward a couple days later, you and your friends were thoroughly slaughtered by the last week of exams before summer break started, and what better way to bid riddance to hours of useless information than by drinking to your heart’s content, right?  
  
At least by their standards that was the best way, because honestly, after endless nights of cramming and useless group study sessions you had (that all ended in a movie marathon and a half finished box of pizza by the way), you were good just passing out on your bed in the university dormitory and hoping you did good enough to keep the scholarship that’s giving you the wide range of benefits that have been helping you with expenses.  
  
Just to be clear however, you knew that your friends suggesting a night of getting wasted and buying you whatever you wanted in the bar, was a way of saying they knew you still had that tinge of heartbreak, and they wanted to help your healing process, letting you know at the same time that your jerk of an ex was the one at fault, not you.  
  
You didn’t know how they did it, but after what you assumed to be about two hours of pitching in savings, earnings from their respective part-time jobs, and whatever change you had in your wallets, you and your circle of friends traveled first class, flying across the world to this popular bar where you’d start day one of a two week vacation in a resort.  
  
You literally had just submitted your test paper to the proctoring professor, then nodding to her greeting of a happy summer vacation. And the moment you stepped out of the still half-filled classroom, and closed the door gently, you were whisked away by some friends and into a car, claiming that you were going on a vacation and they already had everything ready, regardless of you telling them you left your passport back in your parents' house, which were cities away.  
  
After the flight, and a considerable amount of questioning since you could not believe just hours earlier, you were on the other side of the world, everything started off fine, as you recalled from your collection of hazy memories.  
  
Soon after arriving at some bar in the middle of the city, there were a few stories about terror professors and some questions you didn’t quite get on this one exam. No one talked about the heartbreak explicitly, aside maybe from a green eyed brunette subtly commenting he should’ve roughed the guy up a bit more, then proceeding to have a verbal battle with another one of your friends who sported two tones of hair.  
  
Once the drinks rolled around however, you were in a sea of loud laughter, never ending giggles about the smallest things, laced with chicken wings in between.  
  
That was really it, your memory as it stood was a complete mess.  
  
You didn’t even know in what chronological order your memories happened, just that they did occur for sure.  
  
Deciding you weren’t going to get answers just lying around in some comfortable bed, you groaned and stretched your limbs, one of your friends’ names then coming out of your mouth in an incoherent mumble, to draw their attention if they were nearby, before you felt your hand smack something.  
  
Or someone rather, from the resulting groan that met your ears.  
  
With eyes wide, you nearly fell off the bed as you sat down with a jerk in your movements, which wasn’t a good idea when your head spun a little as an aftermath of the action, but you hastily rubbed your eyes and couldn’t stop muttering curses under your breath.  
  
Hurriedly, you’d stood up and distanced yourself from the bed where this groan came from, a particularly loud ‘what the fuck’ then spilling from your lips when you almost tripped at what felt like a couple boxes at the side of the bed, you then using an elegantly designed standing lamp near a closet to steady yourself.  
  
Then slowly, as you awoke from your sleepy stupor with only the slightest hints of a hangover due to the shock, you’d taken the moment to assess what in the world the drunken you had gotten yourself into this time.  
From the beddings alone, even just from the intricate designs on the blankets to the pillow cases that seemed to be lined with copious amounts of golden thread, you pretty much deduced right away that wherever this place is, it isn’t the hotel room you and your friends booked for your vacation.  
  
Before heading into the bar last night, you can somewhat remember you and your friends checking-in and dropping off your belongings soon after arriving at this country, and while your mind wasn’t reliable from the hours of dunking glass after glass of alcoholic beverages, you do know the hotel couldn’t have been this… expensive.  
Honestly, never mind an overnight stay, an hour’s stay seemed as if it would have cost millions alone.  
  
And at the sight of a man on the bed looking probably just as wasted as you before you woke up, you felt your blood run cold in horror at the fact that you’d probably just had a one night stand with a stranger you picked up who knows where.  
  
What was odd was that he wore a suit though, a bit crooked and crumpled, but very much intact, completely contradictory to this idea of a one night stand you thought you had. He even had the coat of the suit on and the tie neatly pressed and tucked inside the jacket as well, a yellow rose then peeking out of his suit’s left breast pocket, causing you to furrow your brows at the scene before you.  
  
He was sleeping so soundly—a great contrast to you who was visibly in a state of panic—his lips were slightly parted, his hair a sleek jet black with an undercut, a bit messed up from tossing around in bed (at least you hoped it was the case), and his skin was simply pale porcelain.  
  
Your staring was abruptly broken at the familiar tune of a calling ringtone, and you scrambled to your feet to get the phone you hadn’t noticed on the bed where you were lying on just moments ago, your hands quickly fumbling for the device as you brought it to face-level, eyes then squinting to make out the words on the blaring screen, before you opened the phone with a quick swipe and answered the call.  
  
In the backdrop mixed with a small tinge of static, you could hear your group of friends’ unmistakable giggles, and you resisted the urge to just shout gibberish words in panic as you took one last look at the person sleeping on the bed.  
Deciding you really didn’t want him to wake up and make things more awkward than it already was, you quickly stumbled towards the door to the room and stepped out, only to find yourself in the midst of some posh living room.  
  
It was pretty safe to assume you were in a penthouse from the view on this floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the city of wherever this country is. But aside from the layout of a beautiful urban city, what made your heart stop was your reflection by the glass wall.  
  
Looking down had you only noticed the burning feelings by your stomach when you woke up was because you were wearing a very constricting corset underneath a dress of soft silk, strewn with what looked to be real pearls and some other jewels you couldn’t name, embedded in the fabric in careful sewing.  
  
And just below your collar bone was what looked like the very same yellow rose the guy on the bed had in his breast pocket. Given you were probably a messier sleeper, seeing as yours looked to be in terrible shape, and you’d just about ripped it out from yourself when your friend spoke through the messaging app used to call you with, reminding you that you were in the middle of a call.  
  
“Hello? (F/n)?” A worried voice said, and you’d just about let out incoherent curses, eyes still fixated on your reflection in the glass wall before you mumbled out an inaudible string of panicked words.  
  
Your friend took your mumbles as a response and followed it with a small laugh though, probably not sensing your distress over the static.  
It wasn’t exactly a secret you lot have done some fucked up things under the influence of alcohol, so most of the time you all had a good laugh about your adventures while in an incoherent state of mind. Today probably was worth more of a deafening scream that a laugh though.  
  
“Are you okay? You didn’t come to the hotel last night.” The person said, still keeping that worried tone to it, and you could only gulp at the words spoken.  
  
Because honestly, what in the world happened last night for you to wake up with a terrible hangover, a blooming headache, and clad in something that greatly resembled a wedding gown, that probably amounted to the cost of your life and your next hundred lives.  
  
It was a bit hard to see from the glass reflection with the sunlight from the outside, but you were sure your hair was done up in some high-end style, adding to the dreaded headache from your still subtly present hangover, and when you reached behind your neck you pretty much guessed you were wearing a veil too.  
  
“A-Armin—” You began shakily, but your words were met with protest and you could only guess from the elevated static that you were put on speaker mode after the phone was snatched from your blond friend..  
  
“Can you still walk (F/n)?” A smug voice resounded from the static, and you resisted the will to roll your eyes before you spoke with an annoyed tone.  
  
“Fuck off, Jean.” You seethed. “I’m already panicking and have this shit hangover—wait, what the fuck did you make me drink last night?” You completely disregarded your friend’s question, which he didn’t seem to mind seeing as a snicker was given to your statement.  
  
“It was only the usual, wasn’t it?” A voice spoke in the background, one that you could quickly identify as belonging to a petite blond girl with blue eyes, Krista.  
  
“Yeah, the usual, except you went all out and probably tripled everything.” You heard Jean say before he laughed once more, unable to see your distressed face over the call, but that laugh was short-lived thankfully, as the sound of a smack was heard from the other line, and someone saying something along the lines of ‘shut the fuck up, horseface’, which you concluded belonged to another friend of yours, a brunette named Eren.  
  
You heard the sounds of footsteps and a door closing, a few faint protests from your other friends in the background being heard, and the beginnings of Jean and Eren’s banter, before everything was plunged in a silence only consisting of static and the occasional chirping of the birds outside the penthouse suite you were in.  
  
“Sorry about that (F/n).” You sighed in relief when you recognized the voice to be of the petite blond girl, who was one of your closest in your group of friends.  
  
“It’s alright Krista.” You said with a sigh, furrowing your brows as the call was still on speaker mode, but you had greater things to worry about than elevated static, so you just sighed. “I’m just… I’m panicking, I haven’t stopped shaking since a while ago, and I woke up, then there’s this—”  
  
“(F/n), breathe.” Krista’s worried voice cut you off, and you bit your lip in an attempt to calm yourself down enough, to be able to take a few deep breaths that will hopefully help you regain your composure.  
  
“Krista…” You tried again after a few seconds, but it doesn’t feel like you’ve calmed down enough as you began talking, your hands getting a tad too clammy for your liking as you gripped your phone enough to probably break it. “I… I’m scared. I have no idea what’s going on, and there’s a guy in the room behind me that I don’t know—”  
  
“Wait a minute.” Your friend said, and you heard the sound of a door opening, and a muffled name being called before shuffling was heard on the other side of the line.  
  
“Krista?” You asked, expecting the girl to answer, but another voice responded, one whom you’ve quickly matched up to a stoic, ravenette, childhood friend, who may seem like she doesn’t care majority of the time, but if you learn to read her actions, or at least been with her for nearly eight years like you have, then you’ll know that she isn’t as stone-hearted as anyone makes her to be.  
  
“It’s Mikasa.” A voice said, seemingly impassive as always, but you could sense a worrying undertone to them.  
You were wondering why Krista passed the phone to another person without so much as an explanation, but before you could ask, a question halted your rushed train of thought.  
  
“Are you sure this isn’t a one-night stand?”  
  
“I don’t think so.”  
  
You quickly uttered the words, now thinking Krista had explained your predicament partly to your childhood friend, and you guessed the phone was probably passed because if there was someone who could calm you down, Mikasa was definitely way up in that list. At the moment though, you doubted even your childhood friend could calm you down.  
  
At the silence that proceeded your sentence, you thought maybe an elaboration was due so you drew in a breath and started talking.  
  
“I… there’s a guy in the room when I woke up and he’s wearing a suit and it doesn’t look like anything happened. But I may be wrong? I don’t know? What the fuck did I do last night?” You rushed out, not even caring to censor your words because this event definitely merited a slew of cusses as it was a legendary entry to the small list of fuckery you ended up with in your lifetime.  
  
The other entry was thinking this one clown at a party was out to get you, so being your six year old self, you pushed him into a garden fountain before reanimating some wrestling match you saw on television, resulting in you acquiring an arm sling, and an angry clown with crutches.  
  
But well, that was a story for another day.  
  
“Okay...” You heard your friend sigh, and you clutched you phone closer to your ear as if it was your lifeline, waiting for Mikasa to tell you just anything that could possibly make you feel a bit better.  
You were already panicking, and a faint commentary from Jean in the background about how ‘(F/n) got some’ just kind of snapped something inside of you.  
  
“Shut the fuck up Jean! I am in a fucking wedding dress that looks like I sold my soul for it, my head feels like I was hit by a truck, and I’m in a penthouse with a guy sleeping in the next room, that I swear I have never seen in my entire life. If this is some elaborate prank you have planned I am going to hunt you down and mur—”  
  
“Wait, a wedding dress?”  
  
You groaned when you were cut off by Mikasa’s question, and you rubbed soothing circles in your forehead with the palm of your hand before grumbling your response.  
  
“Yes, a fucking wedding dress, complete with a veil.” You sassed.  
  
It was quiet on the other line for a moment, and then you heard your friend mumble a small ‘shit’ followed by some more shuffling and hushed conversations before quick footfalls followed.  
“Where are you (F/n)?” Mikasa said, and you thought you’d just finally realized the background was void of Jean’s unnecessary commentaries for once.  
  
“Do you think I have a clue?” You said a little more harshly than intended, and you shook your head before sighing. “I’m sorry, Mikasa, I really don’t know. I’m just tired and this situation is scaring me and—”  
  
“I know, listen I need you to look out a window and tell me what you see?” Your friend said in a more worried tone, and you quickly walked closer to the glass wall, relaying what you could see to your friend.  
  
Thought you were only able to say something along the lines of a ‘circle labyrinth garden, and a cupid statue’, when you heard the unmistakable voice of Armin in the background, saying something that sounded like “The Valles Hotel.”  
  
You soon heard a car engine starting, and about two doors closing, then afterwards you could hear the sounds of a rather robust traffic from your friend’s side of things, your curiosity at the rather loud sounds of the city on her side, prompting you to look at your phone’s screen and realize that it was about ten in the morning.  
  
After the quick look at the time, you brought the phone to your ear again, just in time to hear your friend speak. “Armin and I are on the way.” Mikasa murmured, a sense of urgency in her voice.  
  
“Alright…” you managed to say, busying yourself with now looking around the place for any traces of the clothes you wore the night before.  
  
With some luck you found a paper bag of a store name you couldn’t even pronounce, but inside it was your comfy, black, constellation patterned hoodie, and the purple leggings you wore the night before, plus pair of flats, proof that you couldn’t even change out of your clothes after school, seeing as you were quickly pushed into a car, and then an airplane in record time.  
  
Quickly, you began to take off the wedding gown you were wearing but it proved to be a harder task than expected. The designs just gave off that kind of aura, screaming at you that each little jeweled detail was going to cost your tuition if you somehow broke it.  
  
Still, you needed to at least make progress aside from cussing at yourself. That was why, after effectively sandwiching your phone to your shoulder and ear, you set to work on finding the zipper to the dress, which you discovered was nonexistent. Instead you found that the dress was set snugly to your form, by ribbons tied behind your back, and it didn’t take that long before your hands blindly reached for the strings and you tried to untie them.  
  
Over the phone, you heard the usual traffic, and Mikasa and Armin’s conversation, partly made up of Armin suggesting alternate routes due to the traffic, and about some other topic you couldn’t be bothered to know, seeing as you were more interested in getting yourself into some more, breathable clothing if you may.  
  
From the slightly faint voices however, you assumed that Mikasa had the phone in her lap or had it somewhere nearby, maybe even had Armin hold it, or placed it in the armrest of the center console in the car. You were probably still on speaker mode too, but that was the least of your worries.  
  
“(F/n)?”  
  
“Yeah, still here.” You muttered, knowing your voice was barely audible, but if Mikasa heard it or not, you wouldn’t have known because she went on to speak just as soon as you finished your sentence.  
  
“Do you remember me saying I was born here?” Your friend said in a slightly more serious tone.  
  
“Kind of…” You trailed off, your mind more set on mentally patting yourself at the back for a job well done, as you laid the wedding dress hastily over the sofa, thankful you were wearing a white tube top underneath the dress, though you weren’t too happy about the many layers of petticoats that flowed under the corset.  
  
Before you could take them off however, the corset has definitely got to go first, seeing as it was getting more and more uncomfortable the longer you left it on.  
  
“I want you to tell me one thing (F/n). Do you… is there something like a yellow rose in the room with a blue ribbon?” Mikasa spoke again, though a bit reluctantly, based on what you could pick out from her tone of voice.  
  
“Yeah, it has a chain too.” You said, hands now working on the new set of ribbons at your back while you talked with your phone pinned more harshly between your left ear and shoulder.  
  
“Shit.” You heard Armin and Mikasa mutter collectively, and that one word made you drop your hands from the corset and quickly hold your phone closer to your ear.  
  
“What—” You barely began to say when someone had cut you off.  
  
“It’s my country’s symbol for marriage.”  
  
“I already said I was in a wedding gown—” You furrowed your eyebrows at Mikasa’s statement.  
  
“No, (F/n).” Armin rushed, he now seemed more panicked than you were. “I mean officially.” The blond stressed. “It’s for official marriages. It’s only given to people who got married under the law. There should be a crest with a rose and thorns by the chain too. It’s the symbol of the royal family who once ruled the country centuries ago.”  
  
“I don’t understand?” You said.  
  
Clearly everything, that’s been happening from the moment you woke up, had been one big mash-up of confusion and panic. And just when you thought things couldn’t have gotten any worse, you would quickly learn that you’d just barely scratched the surface of what a night of unmediated drinks could bring.  
  
“It means you married someone under the law.” You heard Armin reiterate what he said earlier, albeit a bit frustrated, but he understood the cause of your confusion. After all, you didn’t busy yourself with reading the history of other peoples’ countries as a past time like he did, and you weren’t born in the country like Mikasa was.  
  
At Armin’s statement you felt your blood grow cold, but before you could offer a panicked response at what you’d just heard, the sound of a door opening hastily, made its way to your ears. Prompting you to look at the source of the sound, which unsurprisingly came from the very room you got out of nearly an hour ago.  
  
And the guy who was sleeping on the bed when you woke up, emerged through the door with a distressed expression, eyes closed as he rubbed his forehead, his suit jacket discarded as he stood with just a gray button up shirt, what you could only guess as his phone, pressed to his ear as he donned a matching look of agitation like you had.  
  
“What the fuck do you mean I took out three hundred thousand dollars through the company?!” He shouted. “I only went drinking last night shitty glasses—”  
  
Before he could finish his second sentence however, the person stopped when he saw you in his peripheral vision, you two then catching each other’s disgruntled expressions, as you stood by the glass walls of the penthouse living room, phone also pressed to your ear, clad still in a white tube top and a still very tightly wound corset, with many layers of petticoats emerging from just below your waist.  
  
You both stared at each other for what felt like an eternity though was only half a minute at best, and you couldn’t even understand what Mikasa and Armin were talking about anymore except that they were nearing an intersection leading to where you were.  
  
And that was the last thing you heard as you blacked out in a mix of panic, fear, and frustration.  
  
Though it was most likely that your dip in consciousness was due to the fact that you’d been standing in direct sunlight in constricting clothing, with nothing but rushed breaths leaving you as a result of the realization that you’d somehow gotten yourself fucking married to a stranger, after just one day of what was supposed to be a therapy of sorts to get you acquainted to the single life.


	2. The Morning After

You stirred about in your sleep, eyes slowly opening up to reveal a nicely lit ceiling of smooth beige, your thoughts still very much muddled up from the hours of unconsciousness, but at the very moment you remembered a snippet what had happened earlier in the morning, you bolted to a sitting position on the bed, the palms of your hands then pressing against your forehead in a soothing gesture, as you tried to think about which of your memories exactly, belonged in the brackets, of dreams, and reality.  
  
When you recalled something along the lines of a beautiful view of the city, you scanned the room for a window. There was only one window in the room, and it was to the left side of the bed you were on. Upon further inspection, your sights registered that the window was covered with a pale, peach colored, mesh curtain, letting the harsh sunlight from the outside, filter into a softer, eye-friendly variety.  
  
Though the window was a spacious size however, you were pretty sure the one in your memories sported the floor-to-ceiling kind. A quick look into your surroundings and you saw the room was nicely furnished, but not exactly matching anything from your memories either.  
  
It was safe to assume you’ve never been to this place, and how you ended up here could be embodied in a question mark, since you honestly have no idea what was going on at the moment. At the remark though, your face scrunched up in displeasure as you felt as if this day has been just that: some kind of collaboration between copious amounts of confusion and broken up memories.  
  
And just to be completely honest, this kind of messy orientation wasn’t sitting well with you.  
  
It also just dawned on you that you might have been abducted.  
  
Of course, you could have laughed at the idea and it was one of the last things that could ever happen to you. But the more your mind tried to understand the situation, the more this theory was gaining some sort of validity.  
  
This was like the movies right? When you thought about it, you woke up in a place you swear you’ve never been to, your memories coming in small flashes, if not at all, and the more your eyes scanned the room, the more it looked like something out of those magazines featuring the houses of only the richest people in the world. And the last time you checked, you weren’t the heiress to a financially well-off company, and you were sure none of your friends were one too.  
  
Speaking of your friends, where were they?  
  
As soon as you asked yourself that question, you were pretty much ready to grab the nearest pillow you can get your hands on, and barge into whatever was on the other side of the door in this room. You finally recalled you were in a different country, and that just added more to the idea you’ve conjured in your head that you were kidnapped or something.  
  
As if on cue, to stop the panic starting to rise within you, the sound of a click resonated within the room, doing well to at least distract you from over thinking about what in the world was going on, and why was it that your memories were as disoriented as what a newborn might have.  
  
And to further calm you down, you saw the familiar visage of your childhood friend, Mikasa Ackerman. It appears the ravenette girl was talking to someone behind her though, and you found yourself relaxing a bit more when you concluded that the person she was talking to, was none other than Armin Arlert, another one of your friends.  
  
“Ah, (F/n), you’re up.”  
  
Armin was the first one to notice you, prompting Mikasa to turn her head to face you, her expression reflective of someone who was somehow concerned, but also a bit distressed as well. Of course, no one could match the expression plastered on your face, which looked like you were in a mix of frustration, confusion, and relief all rolled into one.  
  
“Yeah… I guess I am.” After a moment of silence, you responded to Armin’s statement earlier as a relieved sigh escaped from your lips. “Wait… what exactly is going on? Where exactly is this place?”  
  
As you asked the most prominent questions floating about it your head, Mikasa and Armin exchanged knowing glances. Armin was about to speak, but you suddenly remembered something about a wedding gown and waking up to some guy you didn’t know, relief suddenly flooding into you when you realized it was probably just a big, messed up dream as your memories started coming back to you, now that you were able to actually gather your thoughts.  
  
“No, wait, wait.” You cut Armin off with a wave of your hand, the blond boy then raising an eyebrow at you as he closed his mouth and waited for whatever you were going to say. “Guys, you won’t believe I just had this crazy dream. Oh gosh, I remember now, we went to a club for drinks and I passed out drunk, then I had a dream about me marrying some stranger.” You spoke animatedly, your relief at the situation at hand, leaving you to ignore the concerned looks your two friends were giving you.  
  
And you were about to break into laughter at the ridiculous dream you had, when Mikasa had to give you a pretty good serving of reality in just one, reluctantly mumbled sentence, as if she was afraid of breaking this happy bubble you’ve built up around yourself.  
  
"It wasn’t a dream…” She trailed off, and you couldn’t resist the chuckle that left your lips as you waved her off, thinking your childhood friend was probably just trying to prank you.  
  
“Yeah, sure.” You smiled, the reason for your relaxed expression, due to your mind still set under the impression that your friends were kidding around. Granted you were a little amused since you knew, that in the many years you’ve known them, Mikasa and Armin never really were the types to find entertainment in jokes and pranks.  
  
 Speaking of your two friends, you saw Mikasa look towards Armin, who was standing a little ways behind the ravenette’s left, the concerned looks they were giving each other, flying under your radar since you were more focused on trying to recall other details of that odd dream you thought you had.  
  
Before you could ponder the topic more however, a knock on the door resounded faintly, causing you, and the rest of the occupants of the room—comprised of your two friends—to look over to the door just to catch it opening slowly, showing you piece by piece, a long stretch of hallway with many doors.  
  
Expensive decorations stood in little podiums on the long stretch of the walkway, but what confused you more was the woman who stepped inside the room, sporting a fringe of blond hair spilling underneath a plain white cloth tied like a headband. She looked just a few years older than you, and though her clothes didn’t scream the typicality of maid costumes you saw online, you could guess that she was pretty much along the lines of that occupation.  
  
The apron hanging crisply by her waist was a dead giveaway, and by the left breast pocket of her beige and maroon themed dress, there was an extremely cursive rendering, of the letter A. Actually, was that even the letter A? You couldn’t really tell from the many stylized curls going over what you hoped to be the letter.  
  
“Ah, the miss is awake.” The woman remarked happily when she saw you staring at her apprehensively, and the soft smile on her face showed that she was nowhere near a threat to you and your friends. Regardless of the friendly expression however, you were still a little defensive, and the formality in her tone when she called you a ‘miss’, pretty much made you uncomfortable.  
  
You opened your mouth to speak, but the woman looked over to your ravenette childhood friend, who you concluded had tensed up considerably. Worried, you were about to call out to her, but before the first syllables of her name could leave your lips, the woman, in the classy rendition of a maid uniform, had spoken first.  
  
“The requested baggage from the hotel has arrived, milady.” The woman spoke, and Mikasa just nodded as you caught Armin give you a somewhat apologetic look, prompting you to realize he must have known something you didn’t, about the ravenette, who you thought you knew all about.  
  
You could barely hear the woman excuse herself from the room as your thoughts were now roaming about elsewhere. It’s just that now that you contemplated about it, there were a lot of things about Mikasa that you didn’t know.  
  
As far as your memory served for the ravenette, you were next door neighbors during your early childhood, and your mother often told you how adorable you two were when you first met at the age of four.  
  
Apparently you were quite the recluse child, though the status was more forced because you had just moved into the neighborhood due to your father’s job, and aside from the children already having their established groups of friends, all the kids in that area were two years older than you at the very least, so nobody really wanted to play with the little four year old, who could not yet grasp the complexity of the games the bigger kids played.  
  
From what you gathered, Mikasa’s family moved into the neighborhood just a few months before your family arrived, so that helped add onto the compatibility between you and the ravenette.  
  
Mikasa left the coutnry when you were twelve though, but she came back two years later, and you were happy to know that it wasn’t awkward for either of you when she returned. Unlike you who didn’t have any familial ties to your old residence, Mikasa’s family mainly lived somewhere in the country of Maria (speaking of countries, you lived in Rose).  
  
Stories of your early childhood usually came from your mother, seeing it was a natural human phenomenon that you probably wouldn’t even remember much what you did when you were four, even if you sat down in pure concentration for a long time. You did know that you and Mikasa have been neighbors for a long time, and from your mother’s stories, you two got along really well, even before you two declared each other as best friends, once you knew what the title meant.  
  
You were probably better off not knowing in detail the things you did when you were four anyway, seeing that, aside from how your mother always reiterated that you spent your afternoons over at the Ackerman household, the rest of what you’d heard from the woman, made your cheeks light up in embarrassment.  
  
Honestly, what kind of kid would climb up on the stage of a fairytale play, only to trip on thin air, before proceeding to stall the play for nearly an hour while crying in the limelight because of a sprained ankle?  
  
Apparently, you were the kind of kid to do that. And it didn’t help that when you fell, you grasped the dress of the woman who played the princess, consequently leading to a wardrobe change for the woman, seeing as you ripped up a good portion of her dress.  
  
Before your face could explode in red colors from the apparent memory you don’t even recall having (though you’ve watched your dad’s video about it), your train of thoughts were cut off when you caught sight of the nightstand next to the bed, a seemingly familiar, though mutilated corsage of yellow roses being the focus of your attention, making you snatch the object from the dresser with shaking hands.  
  
“Oh shit… fuck.” You murmured, realizing that what you dismissed as one messed up dream earlier, was more of along the lines of the cold, hard, truth.  
  
Your eyes quickly left the damaged corsage in your hands, (e/c) hues then meeting sets of silvery gray, and deep blues. Through the panic in your eyes, you noticed your friend’s expressions bordering a slight distress, though the expression was more pronounced with Armin’s features, than it was with Mikasa’s. Their looks were the least of your worries though, as you were more concerned about what you remembered Armin had told you in the phone call before you lost consciousness.  
  
“Shit.” You muttered, your dominant hand then smacking you square on the face, a frustrated groan leaving your lips, at the realization that you married a fucking stranger in the midst of an alcoholic daze.  
  
And you didn’t need to pinch yourself anymore, just to confirm reality as the sting in your face throbbed with enough pain to tell you that yes, this was very much real, and your parents were probably going to lose their shit the moment they find out that their only child of recently turned twenty, walked the aisle and managed to get official confirmation, all while in her drunken glory.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
Your head snapped towards Armin as you heard his voice, a look of utter disbelief in your features as you were getting ready to let your friend know just how much ‘okay’ you were feeling at the moment—which was close to a negative one hundred actually.  
  
Before you could say anything however, Mikasa had spoken first, efficiently cutting you off from possibly starting a full-blown, panic fest, composed of you reciting a series of the most colorful vocabulary you could think of.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell us you were sick?”  
  
“That’s not important right now.” You answered the ravenette’s question in a hurried manner, hoping to dismiss the matter fast, as there were more pressing matters at hand. But the way you felt gunmetal glares by the side of your head, told you Mikasa probably wasn’t going to let this slide as easy.  
  
“You passed out from fatigue, most likely due to stress and lack of sleep… that’s what the doctor told us.” You suddenly found your hands lying limp by your lap, a very interesting scene as you heard Armin speak. “You also haven’t been eating properly—”  
  
“Final exams do that to you.” You cut your blond friend from finishing his sentence, you now desperately hoping they would buy your excuse, but you knew they wouldn’t accept such a thing.  
  
This was Armin and Mikasa after all, the ones among the top of the leader boards in their respective university departments, which was comprised of a list of students who had what the professors called academic excellence—simply, students with the best grades—and whatnot.  
  
“(F/n), I’m pretty sure you know that’s not the reason.” Armin sighed at your determination to avoid the topic at hand. “You’ve been unconscious since yesterday, and whatever is going on is important because it concerns your health.”  
  
“Look, please, just drop it.” You said in a defeated tone, putting as much emphasis as you could to the sentence, seeing as you knew your friends could be persistent if they wanted to. “I really don’t want to be reminded of that fucking human garbage.”  
  
“Fine.” Mikasa was the one who answered this time around, and you knew that this topic wasn’t fully out of the window yet, but you were happy enough that your friends complied to your request of not talking about it now.  
What could you say, really?  
  
As much as it was a very stupid thing to you now, your mother often told you that as a child, you were pretty much obsessed with the idea of a fairytale romance where a princess meets her prince, and then cue the wedding bells. It was typical of a little girl after all, but the downside of all those glittery stories was you thinking that you could find your prince and then live happily ever after, in easy three step sequences of events.  
  
And you apparently brought that mindset throughout high school.  
  
He was your high school crush who made an effort to walk you home every day, after you were assigned to be class secretary, requiring you to stay at school on some days when you had to talk to some teachers about class budgets. He didn’t rush you too, only asking you to be his girlfriend months after you two met again on your first year of university, when the two of you coincidentally sat next to each other on the train going to school.  
  
He gave you stuffed bears and roses, memorized any important events you had, and he even knew your favorite order of coffee. What sold you though, was how he was on great terms with your parents, and that even though a certain brunette with green eyes, and a two-tone haired boy in your group of friends openly showed they didn’t like him, the guy remained respectful of your friends and relatives.  
  
No one could have seen through him for the conniving, two-timing, bastard he was.  
  
Not even you.  
  
Your longing for a romance that only existed in children’s books, ended up with you trying to tape back whatever dignity he left you with. Your storybook romance of what should have been a glossy picture book, torn to shreds and vandalized. And as for your ending of a ‘Happily Ever After’, it was made synonymous to meals replaced with tubs of ice cream, and days spent just staring at the ceiling of your dorm room if you weren’t studying or being dragged to the library with friends.  
  
As far as you knew, you were done with romance, and yet here you are, apparently married, to someone who you still don’t know the identity of.  
  
“Levi Ackerman…”  
  
You stopped your thoughts at the sound of Mikasa’s voice trailing off with what you assumed to be a name, and it’s then that you noticed how hard you were clutching the blankets draped over your legs, your knuckles considerably lighter in hue than your usual (s/c) tone. You also realized your face was set into a glare, which quickly faded now that you were out of the throes of a recent past.  
  
“What?” You looked towards your childhood friend with a confused expression.  
  
It’s only when you looked at her that you noticed Armin was now missing from the room, leaving you with the company of your childhood friend who seemed to have been observing you for a while now.  
  
“It’s…” You raised an eyebrow at the way Mikasa was hesitating to say whatever she wanted to, and you would right away learn that her hesitation came with an understandable reason, seeing as when you found out what she was going to say, you couldn’t help but have a darker tint to your cheeks. “He’s the guy you married…”  
  
The ravenette girl standing near the bedside, also had a blush adorning her cheeks to mirror yours, proof that you two found this topic awkward as the last time you talked about anything concerning marriage, was when you were reading ‘The Little Mermaid’ on second grade of middle school. It was one thing when you said it, but hearing other people say it to you kind of made you all embarrassed, though you were pretty much still panicking inside.  
  
This embarrassment was fortunately short lived as you finally processed what Mikasa said earlier, you then quickly looking towards the girl with a look of uncertainty painting your face.  
  
“Wait—isn’t that—did you just say Ackerm—”  
  
“Yes.” The ravenette didn’t even let you finish as she answered your question, and she looked at you with an uneasy expression before she opened her mouth to speak again. “He’s my cousin.”  
  
“Are you fucking kidding me?”  
  
That was the only set of words that left your lips as you stared at Mikasa, as if in the split second you took your sights away from her, your childhood friend somehow transformed into a fucking magical dragon who spewed candy instead fire breath.  
  
“I think you and I know, I don’t joke a lot (F/n).”  
  
“What the fuck?”  
  
“(F/n)—”  
  
“Wait, no. What?” You cut your friend off as you pushed away the comfortable velvet blankets covering your legs, and you hoisted yourself to the side of the bed where you let your feet touch the floor before you stood up, (e/c) orbs trained onto the ravenette who was now inches away from you.  
  
“I’m pretty sure I know what my cousin looks like.” Mikasa answered your question before you could even ask. She looked more worried than annoyed, and you were never thankful than in that moment, that you managed to be friends with someone who was patient enough to handle you. “He was apparently in the same club for business reasons, but stayed even after he’s settled what he had to.”  
  
“Fuck.” You groaned out of frustration.  
  
The only thought going through your mind was how you were pretty much screwed over, if you weren’t already. Mikasa wasn’t exactly very open about her family, mostly because you never asked since you didn’t want to pry into the ravenette’s life. Her cousin however, you’ve heard lots of, all thanks to Eren going on and on about how ‘Mikasa has the most intimidating jerk of a cousin’.  
  
It appears your brunette friend didn’t have a good first meeting with the guy, and now that you thought about it, Armin was a bit uncomfortable about the guy whenever Eren mentioned him, and you swore you could count a few occasions where Mikasa looked just about ready to cut off her ties with the so-called cousin.  
  
So if three of your closest friends didn’t like the guy to a degree, you were pretty much ready to pack your bags and live in the mountains or something. Actually, never mind packing, you were good just bulldozing into the mountains if it meant you wouldn’t have to properly meet this cousin whom everyone in your group of friends collectively tensed up about, or were annoyed at.  
  
A knock on the door did well to stop you plotting a change of residences, you and Mikasa then looking towards the door where the maid from before had once again appeared through the doorway, uniform still crisp, and the apron of her attire still as spotless as when you first saw her.  
  
“I’ve brought medicine, as well as some tea.” The woman smiled, as soon as she spoke the words. “Also, Miss Ackerman,” she looked towards Mikasa as she set the tray of tea and some pills, on top of the dresser next to the bed. “The bill for the hotel has been settled, and a chaperone is bringing your friends to the manor as we speak.”  
  
“Manor…?” You found yourself murmuring, though what you thought to be a silent tone wasn’t silent enough as the woman spared you a glance, a seemingly permanent smile etched on the bottom of her face as she crossed an arm under her chest, another arm then resting on her makeshift armrest as she tapped the bottom of her lip.  
  
“Ah, is this Miss (L/n)?” The blond woman said in such a tone you’d think she just guessed the winning combination of the lottery. “Lady Ackerman’s best friend, right?” She said with a giggle as she sent Mikasa a knowing glance, which the ravenette returned with a slight blush on the sides of her face.  
  
“Just (F/n) is fine, please…” You trailed off, adding weight to the word ‘please’ as you found it a bit awkward being addressed as if you were years older when the woman appeared to be just three years older than you at best. Also, you really didn’t like the formality.  
  
“No, no.” The woman tutted as if you were a child. “It’s etiquette to address important people as such. Such is the manner upheld by the staff in the Ackerman household.”  
  
“What—”  
“Elena—”  
  
 You and Mikasa spoke at the same time, though both of you were cut off by what you now knew as Elena, drawing from what your ravenette friend was saying earlier.  
  
“The Ackermans are a very influential family in this country milady.” The woman said with a smile. “Lady Mikasa is the heiress of the Shiganshina Travel Company.” At this, you almost choked on air, your sights settling onto Mikasa who just showed you an uncomfortable expression as she looked at the carpeted floor. “There are several manors around the country, but we are in the primary mansion of Lady Mikasa’s family, the other one is near the ocean, but that belongs to Sir Levi, who is the CEO of—”  
  
“Elena, please leave us.” Mikasa said with a sense of urgency, most likely due to her sensing that if you managed to get more information, then your head might explode from sheer shock alone.  
  
Elena just bowed and reminded Mikasa about the medicine you apparently had to take, and then you were left in the room with your childhood friend again. But you were silent all the while as Mikasa stared at you calculatively, the ravenette gauging an estimate of your reaction to what you’d just heard.  
  
“(F/n) I’m—“  
  
“You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t apologize.” You said just as soon as you guessed what the ravenette was going to say. “Just umm... wait.”  
  
You sat down on the bed again, silently thinking to yourself as you downed the pills, and the warm cup of water Mikasa had passed to you, the girl also sitting down on the side of the bed and remaining silent as you tried to understand the information the blond woman from earlier had just slapped to you.  
  
It all made sense now, the first class seating arrangement coming here, and the many free plane rides you’ve gotten during vacations with friends or family. You knew it couldn’t have all been a free package or some sort of prize from winning a contest in the mall. And if you got to the other side of the world without a passport, then that goes to show how much influential your best friends’ family could be.  
  
And you make a note to yourself to never get into the bad side of anyone with an Ackerman for a last name, lest you wanted to end your life before it was due.  
  
“It’s not that I was hiding it from you.” You set the now empty glass of water back onto the tray on the nightstand, your (e/c) eyes trailing over to Mikasa who seemed to be deep in thought as she spoke the words.  
  
You flopped back down on the bed, your legs still dangling on the bedside as if you were still sitting, but your upper half was lying on the bed. In your peripheral vision, you could tell Mikasa was giving you a concerned look, to which you gave a sigh before closing your eyes.  
  
“I know you weren’t. I never asked because I’m not interested in it, and I’m not angry or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” You said. “It’s just… a lot to take in.”  
  
Mikasa just hummed in understanding before you two fell into a comfortable silence, which of course you should have known wasn’t going to last any longer, seeing as just when you thought your heart rate calmed down, it shot up into the sky when a very long banging sound was heard somewhere in front of you.  
  
Startled, you’d just about sat up again, only to find a brunette woman come barreling into the room. She looked pretty much a professional in every aspect of her pencil skirt and cream colored blouse, up to the set of black rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, to the lab coat fitting her loosely, a dead giveaway that if she wasn’t in the sciences, then she was probably in the field of medicine.  
  
Her expression unsettled you though, but from Mikasa’s now stoic features, you guessed you guessed you weren’t in a life threatening situation.  
  
“Ohh, so she’s finally up!” She exclaimed with a smile, to which you returned with an stiff smile of your own, as you weren’t sure what else to offer the woman.  
  
She looked nice enough and seemed to have a very excitable personality, but you never knew with these kinds of people. Usually it’s the eccentric ones who could unleash what could be an equivalent of hell if you knew just the right way to pull their strings until it snapped.  
  
“How are you feeling?” The brunette said, but then when you looked at her uncertainly, she chuckled. “Ah, I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Hanji Zoe.”  
  
“(F/n).” You murmured as a form of an awkward introduction. “And I’m good, thank you.”  
  
As you finished your sentence, you looked towards the ravenette sitting next to you, though Mikasa looked to be just as helpless as you were at the moment.  
  
The woman, Hanji as you now knew her, let out an amused laugh, the same entertained expression mirrored in the russet hues she sported as she kept her sights trained on you. And you tried to ignore it, but something told you that this woman was finding a bit too much amusement in your distressing situation.  
  
“No need for introductions, I know who you are.” The brunette could barely finish the sentence without chuckling. “You’re the person shorty married!” She stated with a very enthusiastic tone to her voice.  
  
And as if things couldn’t have been anymore awkward than it already was, you heard a new addition to you, and the cheery brunette’s conversation.  
  
“Stop being so loud shitty glasses.”  
  
You tensed up right away at the sound of the voice you pretty much knew you’d heard before.  And it didn’t really take that much to know that Hanji was the one who ‘shitty glasses’ addressed.  
  
Speaking of the brunette woman, she just looked a little ways behind her with a smile on her face still intact. In the few minutes you’ve known her, you were sure she didn’t even get offended even though you might have flipped if someone called you like that.  
  
“Oh come on, Levi! Your beloved wife finally woke up.” Hanji said with a squeal at the end, the teasing tone in her voice more directed to the male she was talking behind her, rather than the byproduct of your face nearly being the human replica of a tomato.  
  
In the hallways, you could hear the unmistakable sounds of your friends’ awed conversations, and Hanji just moved to the side to reveal the very same person you last saw when you passed out by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of a high-end penthouse.  
  
This was clearly too much to handle for one morning, the mix of banter, conversations, and uncensored cussing, making you wish you could just pass out again just to escape this chaos you were in the middle of.  
  
Was it too late to reconsider the idea of living in the mountains?  
 


	3. Candy Cane Shenanigans

You stared in horror at a sleek, flat screen, television set Mikasa had in one of the living rooms of her grandiose ~~palace~~ home. The dialogue from the blaring screen, accentuated with a two-tone haired boy’s laughter, which was echoing across the halls, doing nothing but add onto the look of distress in your features.

After you had a not so welcomed reunion with your friends alongside an optimistic brunette and your apparent husband (cue the screams of terror), the maids have called onto the group for breakfast. You had declined though, seeing as the churning on your stomach hasn’t stopped since you woke up, and aside from the nervousness you felt, you still had the bitter aftertaste of the medicine you took an hour ago and you weren’t too keen on eating medicine flavored pancakes.  
   
You would even say that all the alcohol you consumed still hasn’t gotten out of your system. Again, further adding proof onto the fact that you really went all out with the drinks two days ago.

Mikasa and Armin seemed reluctant to have you skip the meal, seeing as they knew you had just passed out from lack of proper eating habits—although you knew that stress was largely the reason, and a too-tight-for-comfort corset.  
   
Out of spite you took an apple from the dining table just so the two wouldn’t worry, and it seemed to work for the most part, except here you were sitting in the living room next to the dining area, your throat dry as you stared at the television set one of the maids opened up for you.  
   
Your thumb was hovering over the button of a remote, you then wanting nothing more than to continue switching the channels so you can gauge just how much fucked up you were, as if the first thirty or so channels wasn’t proof enough. However, as much as you wanted to switch the channel, you were sat frozen in your seat.  
   
The dining room of the house was a small one, connected to the kitchen which housed high-end appliances and polished marble countertops. You knew this couldn’t have been the main dining area though, because you overheard one of the maids telling Mikasa that they had set up breakfast in ‘one of the smaller rooms’.  
   
If you could even call it a room, since the area wasn’t separated from the living room by a wall, which leads you to the conclusion that your friends could see what has gotten you so distressed, or embarrassed, or wishing the ground could just swallow you up because hell looked a whole lot better, than what you had your eyes set on.  
   
Aside from those channels geared towards a very young set of audiences, every switch in channel showed their own renditions of a news report, and a headline that were different variations of the sentence: “Levi Ackerman Spotted With Unknown Girl.”  
   
The shock from being on headlining news aside, you were a little relieved that your identity was hidden as you couldn’t recall your name being spoken by a news reporter, or a morning talk show host. What’s more, most of the pictures spreading about you and Mikasa’s cousin, had you with a blurry face from unsteady hands, or rushed methods of trying to take a picture, and then the clearer of the shots were thankfully just pictures showcasing your back.  
   
The peculiar thing was that no one seemed to have pictures of you in a wedding gown, though it made you nervous because if you were with someone who was apparently famous in this country, then for sure, someone out there must have witnessed you in the extravagant piece of clothing.  
   
You sure as hell knew you couldn’t have worn the garment on your own, because you could barely take it off without crying in frustration at the neatly, and tightly, tied ribbons, that once secured the clothing to your form.  
   
In any case, this one channel caught your attention as you were skimming through the stations. Curiosity got the best of you as the women on screen kept talking about something they saw online, a video that they really liked apparently, one that was uploaded in the internet just an hour ago and already garnering large numbers of views.  
   
You decided to wait for it because one of the women said they would show it in just a few minutes. But that proved to be a huge mistake, because as the video was just ten seconds in, you didn’t even notice the apple in your hand falling on the maroon carpet splayed under the sofa.  
   
The fruit then rolling a few inches more before it stopped and lay there forgotten, at least until you snap out of this trance.  
   
You see, in the large television set was a channel that showed something that was different from the whole fiasco of an Ackerman heir being spotted with some romanticized mystery girl, just like in those cliché romantic movies, that you’ve had the displeasure of watching with your friends, who happened to like those kinds of things.  
   
As if one rich person meeting a girl was anything special.  
   
From memory, Elena, who was a member of the household staff, did give you a heads up that the Ackerman family was widely known. But you didn’t think it they were known enough that one member of the family could spark dozens of news material just for being spotted with someone.  
   
You were just thankful it seems the media hasn’t caught wind of said Ackerman heir actually marrying the mystery girl, aside from just being spotted with her.  
   
Before you left the room, Hanji, who had taken quite a liking to you despite only meeting you minutes prior, had informed you that within the week, you’ll have to discuss in private, about what exactly will happen to you now.  
   
Now back to the reason for Jean’s incessant laughing that’s making you want to plug the golden eyed boy’s mouth with the remote in your hands if you weren’t so paralyzed with fear. It was due to a morning talk show’s entertainment column.  
   
And of, _fucking_ , course; you should have seen it coming.  
   
After all, the universe didn’t seem to be on your side the past few days, and it didn’t seem to be siding with you any time soon.  
   
The topic of the day, for that entertainment column, was all about viral videos. From what you gathered, apparently there was a newly uploaded video spreading around the internet that was ‘bound to lighten up your day’ as one of the women hosting the show, had claimed so.  
   
At least that was what the women agreed on, and at first, thinking you did need a distraction from the mess your life has become, you were all good for laughing yourself off on this supposed video. Well, that was until you realized that this video was going to add another entry into the list of frustrations you’ve had since final exams started a little over two weeks ago.  
   
The video started with a very shaky framework, indicating that the person holding the camera, from a personal cell phone you assumed, wasn’t exactly in a sober state of mind, but mostly because he—you thought the voice definitely came from a guy—was drunkenly sniggering at whatever he was filming on a small stage. A stage, bursting with flashes of neon from strobe lights attached on the front and sides, where even the band playing on it looked as wasted as anyone lucky enough to be filmed in this so-called internet sensation of a video.  
   
Honestly, taking a glance at the way the members of the band were playing, they looked like they didn’t care whether or not they hit the notes of an excessively covered song on the radio. In fact, you would even say they had only about a handful of actual singing, and the rest were misses in the forms of slurred words, unnecessary screams, and failed attempts to get a sea of tipsy people, to sing along.  
   
But as much as it was comical to see how chaotic things were on the stage alone, the focus of the video wasn’t the band members and their measly attempts at singing under the influence of probably too much alcohol.  
   
And this was the part where you felt as if hell had frozen over, as the camera zoomed into a figure on the foot of the stage.  
   
You should have seen it coming the moment you saw that the backdrop of the video. From the dimmed lighting that looked uncomfortably familiar, and to the strings of pulsating light onstage flashing a barrage of colors akin to the spectrum of a rainbow, really, you should have known better.  
   
Yet while you knew what was coming, your thumb stayed frozen as it hovered over a button on the remote that prompted moving up one channel number, and it stayed that way until the video stopped playing.  
   
Then here you were, thinking the humiliation would finally come to a standstill, but you were proved wrong as the video started up again from the first second, all because the women hosting the morning talk show just couldn’t get a damned move on.  
   
Moving on from after the camera panned into a blurry figure of a girl at the foot of the stage, everything seemed normal—well, as much as normal came to be in a club full of intoxicated teenagers and some adults—that was until the person of focus, stopped an off-beat dancing routine, and suddenly grabbed the microphone stand on the stage.  
   
Of course, the male, lead singer wasn’t too happy about that, so cue the tug of war with the microphone stand before the person on the foot of the stage went on top of the platform, and just knocked out the lead singer, with a deft kick to the guitar he had pinned between his legs. Needless to say, the screams that followed the action were justified.  
   
And then the figure who won the useless battle, more visibly a girl now as she stood on stage, cradled the microphone stand before setting it straight up again, and then patting the microphone head lovingly, as if it was a delicate flower.  
   
“I have announcement to make!” The voice, which flowed from the blurred person on center stage, definitely proved it belonged to a female. And said female was obviously drunk from the slurs in her speech.  
   
You wouldn’t have even understood what the girl said, if not for whoever placed subtitles in the video.  
   
What was odd, however, was that when the girl spoke, the sea of tipsy people crowding the dance floor seemingly paid a little more attention to her than they ever did to the poor lead singer, who was now passed out in the background.  
   
“First of all, fuck all of you!” The girl screamed into the microphone, and then some disproving and amused shouts rang throughout the club, which made the girl stomp her foot on stage like a child having a tantrum before she grabbed the microphone again. “And two, I’m gonna marry this candy cane cause yeah!” Cue the girl gesturing to the microphone to your dismay.  
   
Her little speech doesn’t stop there, and she squats on the stage while cradling her head in one hand, the other bringing the microphone stand to her chest, like it was a prized trophy. “Fuck, ow, my head hurts.” She mumbled, the words heightened by the microphone, and then she clutches her heart in a dramatic motion before speaking once more. “Fuck, stupid cheating bastard! I hate men!” She shouted into the microphone.  
   
The girl’s statement caused uproar from her drunken audience, some of the subtitles on the video, then helping you understand that collective agreement was being shouted in the crowd, and then some people also shouted that the girl’s statement wasn’t true. And there were defensive comments as well.  
   
But through all of the shouting, the girl on stage only reacted once she heard a faint shouting, of someone saying the girl couldn’t marry a candy cane because Froot Loops were better. To which the girl screeched into the microphone as she stood up abruptly, obviously hurt by whoever told her she couldn’t marry a fucking microphone stand she mistook for a candy cane.  
   
“No! Don’t talk to my fiancée like that!” The girl shouted, her stance looking like she was ready to drop whoever commented the offending words, into a human sized paper shredder if she could find one. “Froot Loops are shitty, dry donut babies!”  
   
However, quite contradictory to her headstrong entrance and her angered visage, she did a quick one eighty and sat down before she started crying onstage. And of course she just had to bring the microphone stand down with her, with the microphone coincidentally being placed near her face, so that her wailing was reflected on the speakers covering the dance floor.  
   
The actions, prompted a series of boos from the crowd, but they were more trying to reprimand the person who made the girl cry. Then some drunken people offered useless advice or encouragements on how the girl could marry a candy cane if she wanted to.  
   
By now the camera frame was trembling too much that the video was a mess of colorful lights and barely recognizable figures. But then the screen was plunged into a darkness, sounds from the lively club still being heard, as well as a particularly loud cuss word, telling you that the person holding the camera had dropped the phone on the table.  
   
And that served as the end of the video on its second replay.  
   
Now why were you so worked up about the clip anyway?  
   
It was simple really.  
   
That was because despite the poor resolution, and the obscured features of the girl who was the star of this three-minute-long clip, it didn’t take a lot of effort to realize that the girl was a very drunken rendition, of your now very sober, and extremely terrified, self.  
   
You could tell right away that the girl was you, because now that you saw some proof, you could recall a brief moment where you and your small group of seven dived into the dance floor, soon after a bet was made, that the worst dancer had to pay for some side dishes.  
   
Your clothes of a constellation patterned, black, long-sleeved shirt, were covered by a large mint green hoodie though, but that was because you remember that just when you had finished ordering the first round of drinks, Eren was being a gentleman and lent you his hoodie when he saw you visibly shivering at the cold temperature inside the club.  
   
“Oh gosh, help I can’t stop laughing.” One of the women on screen said in between fits of giggles as a three minute video stopped playing, and you would have rolled your eyes when you heard Jean’s sniggering be interrupted by a rather loud snort before he attempts to stop another peal of laughter.  
   
Keyword: attempted, and as far as that went, you were convinced that the boy with two tones of hair, was doing a pretty shit job about it.  
   
And the worst part was that you refused to look at the classy dining table a few meters behind you, because you knew that everyone on that table, has now realized that the reason for your paralyzed state, and Jean’s unending laughter, was because you were the person who claimed internet fame by being an overly emotional, drunk person.  
   
You admit the video was funny, sure, and you had to give it some credit because it shed a little light onto the lack of memories you had that one night. The video also gave you a little peek into how you got into this whole marriage dilemma with your best friend’s cousin, and from this little peek alone, you were pretty sure you didn’t want to see the full circle of your intoxicated adventures.  
   
But you to think you’d take a candy cane any day, just so you can shove it down Jean’s throat and see how he’d like to laugh some more.  
   
You were all up for making your friends laugh with some jokes or stories, but as you could hear your friends’ faint sniggering, aside from the boy with golden eyes and two tones of hair, everyone else on the dining area understood that in situations like this, you certainly didn’t want to be the center for their amusement.  
   
You were in deep shit as it was, and the gravity of the situation was now dawning on you. Quickly, your mind set off into taking down mental notes of solutions to the complicated mess you’ve gotten yourself into. But you were rapidly realizing that your solutions couldn’t possibly combat the ever growing list of problems floating around in your head.  
   
For one thing, the bane of all your problems was an unexpected marriage to a person you didn’t even know existed. You were just lucky that this stranger, Levi as you recalled, was Mikasa’s cousin, and that fact alone was more bearable because seeing as your best friend knew him, then you felt as if you could trust him a little.  
   
Another thing was that Mikasa and Armin sounded a bit too conflicted and worried when you first told them about the marriage. So you were thinking, a divorce process in the country of Maria was more complicated than in Rose.  
   
Heck, you didn’t even know the first thing when it came to dissolving a marriage legally. The only kind of knowledge you had about these kinds of things, came from those late night romance movies and legal dramas you’ve watched with your circle of friends. And you knew that those were as reliable as you entering final exams without opening a single book or notebook.  
   
Another thing on your list of problems, were that news headlines all over the country, were teeming with a badly taken pictures of you alongside someone who was quite a favorite of the media.  
   
So while the headlines were still about a successful businessman being spotted with an unknown girl, you knew that for someone who unknowingly attracts large volumes of paparazzi, it would only be a matter of time before your identity, and your unplanned marriage with said businessman, is exposed.  
   
What’s more, with the views on your drunken video blowing up, it was bound to be that people in your homeland were having a good laugh about it as well. The video was blurred enough most of the time for people to not get a good look at you, but to those who have known you for a while, and knew you were on vacation in the country of Maria, they may just be able to put two and two together, to find out that you were the girl featured on the viral clip.  
   
There were probably pictures of you in a wedding gown scattered online too, but the worst thing about all this, was the anticipation of your parents’ reactions should they find out about what was going on.  
   
You couldn’t just call them and say “Yeah, hi mom, dad, I’m just calling to say I accidentally got married.”  
   
They would surely ground you for life if they could. You had just turned twenty a couple months ago after all, and they surely expected your graduation first before they expected a wedding ring on your finger.  
   
Speaking of wedding rings, you looked down at your hands and saw the absence of one, hope building up inside you that since one of the most important symbols in marriage was missing, then there was a possibility you hadn’t married someone.  
   
But of course, when a sudden memory surfaced, of Mikasa and Armin explaining a yellow rose’s importance, your hopes hadn’t even reached the ceiling of the living room you were in, before it was violently thrown back onto the soft carpet, beneath your bedroom slipper clad feet.  
   
In the midst of your over thinking, you could barely hear a chair smoothly being pushed back from the marble floors. To which you found out to be from Armin, as the boy was now standing beside you in less than a few seconds, and then he’d gently grabbed the remote from your frozen hand.  
   
Armin attempted to make you feel better by changing the channel to a different one, seeing as while you were lost in your overloaded train of thoughts, you didn’t see that the video was being played again, due to requests from the live audience of the talk show.  
   
The blond’s actions snapped you out of your chaotic reverie, and you offered him a faint smile, your (s/c) skin, visibly a tad pale from what you’d just watched. But as Armin switched the channel, your smile reverted into a scowl as the television set started to exhibit another intro to the video you’d just watched.  
   
“Fuck my life.” You grumbled, and the very moment you heard Jean’s mouth opening to let out the beginnings of a new round of laughter, you turned your upper body sideways so your head could look around and send a threatening glare to the boy on the dining table.  
   
Except threatening, probably didn’t fit the description of your expression, because you looked more like you wanted to hide in a hole and cry, rather than to inflict hell. The sight of your tear-glazed eyes had Jean finally shutting up though.  
   
You weren’t crying yet, but you knew that if you blinked then a couple droplets could run down the sides of your face. The tears were more from frustration than sadness though, and while your friends could see that, they looked quite shocked because it was the first time any of them has actually seen you near tears.  
   
You never cried in front of their presence, mostly because you were used to bottling everything up inside. Mikasa was the only friend you had until high school, and during the times she wasn’t at home or she was vacationing elsewhere, you were always alone in the confines of your home.  
   
Your parents were loving people, but since they both worked to give you the comforts of life, you only ever got to spend time with them on weekends and the rare day offs they took while sick, or just because they wanted to spend time with you in the summer. Babysitters were nice and all, but they never connected with you, so you were more than relieved when you were old enough to be left at home alone.  
   
Long story short, you learned to keep to yourself and get out of problems on your own, though you weren’t against your friends helping you. Being human, you weren’t heartless so you’ve cried like any other person, but you just preferred pouring your emotions out when there was no one around to question you.  
   
The quick silence in the background told you that Armin managed to turn the TV off since it was a far better solution than the previous one he’s tried. You could barely catch the tense atmosphere by the table, mostly with your group of friends sending glares to an apologetic looking Jean.  
   
But what piqued your interest as you wiped your eyes free of tears, was that Mikasa looked like she was having a silent stare-off with the gray-eyed male who was sitting across from her. The two were looking so intently at each other and with matching intensity, that you could say they were having an actual conversation with their eyes.  
   
Hanji who was sitting beside the gray-eyed male, waved at you with a smile, to which you furrowed your brows at because she seemed to be such a bundle of sunshine, in the dining area that was looking more like a battlefield every second you stared.  
   
Then as if the conversation between the ravenette cousins had concluded, Mikasa sat back on her chair with a relieved expression, whereas Levi reacted by pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighed begrudgingly.  
   
It appears Mikasa won whatever nonverbal battle they were having.  
   
“Hanji.” Levi’s voice was enough to earn the attention of everyone in the room, and from the way the bespectacled woman looked too eager, you guessed this was among the rare times the man addressed her with her actual name.  
   
“I’m on it!” Hanji said with a grin as she waved her sleek, white cased, smart-phone around. And she excused herself on the table with a skip in her step, the brunette woman then disappearing into the archway leading into a bigger living room, only after she sent a reassuring wink at you.  
   
To say you were puzzled was an understatement of large proportions. The woman just confused you. She was like a walking carnival bringing joy wherever she went, even though that happiness was often unwelcome.  
   
“Shitty brat.” You heard Levi say as he glared at his female cousin, to which Mikasa just shrugged back, though you could tell your friend was holding back a triumphant smile of relief, or something.  
   
Soon after Levi had spoken the words, he pushed his chair back and a household staff was quick to bring his plate to the nearby kitchen and wash the dining implements. And you could have sworn the stoic male glanced at the kitchen with an inkling of distaste in his features, but then you couldn’t ponder much on the idea as you found gunmetal hues staring into your own (e/c) ones.  
   
It would mark the first time you two made eye contact, after the first time you two met eyes in a penthouse suite. He looked just as pissed as the first time you saw him, though from both times, you could tell that his aggravation wasn’t fully directed at you.  
   
The man gave a click of the tongue before he stopped holding your stare and left the room, going the same direction where Hanji went minutes prior, the brunette probably still conversing on her phone, as you could hear her voice’s faint mutterings on the next room.  
   
Just then, a thump on your legs startled you, and you looked on your lap to find your forgotten apple, your hands clutching it as you looked up at Armin’s cerulean blues, the blond boy just smiling slightly, before he said that you forgot about the fruit.  
   
The apple however, hadn’t even reached an inch near your lips when it was snatched from you. The perpetrator, being Mikasa, whom gestured for you to stand up as she walked back to the kitchen so she could place the apple back on the fruit bowl you took it from.  
   
When she came back to stand in front of you, she patted your head—what you discovered long ago as her way of reassuring you whenever she thought you were sad—and then as she dropped her hand from you, she gestured for one of the awaiting household staff to come near.  
   
A woman in her late twenties came near, her clothes composed of an ankle length beige skirt, white, knee-length apron, a beige collared shirt being the last item, tied by the neck with a black ribbon. The shirt of the attire was accented with maroon designs, and a patch with a familiar cursive that you now knew was A, for Ackerman.  
   
She was more mature than Elena whom you’ve met earlier in the day, and she was missing the white bandana that the blond girl adorned earlier when she came to give you medicine, and a slap of information that came too much for it to be refreshing.  
   
But like the blond girl from before, this ebony haired woman held the same friendliness in her eyes like her colleague has, and she also had this professional flare to her. Confidence mirrored in her hazel eyes as she looked expectantly at your ravenette friend.  
   
“My friends and I won’t be having lunch here.” Mikasa politely informed the woman who just nodded at her. The ravenette girl stated the words in finality, telling you that you or your friends that you all had no say in the matter.  
   
“Are you going out?” The woman asked to make sure.  
   
“Yes, into town actually.” Your friend answered.  
   
“I see…” The woman trailed off, her hazel eyes leaving Mikasa’s gray ones so she could send you a glance. But that lasted for only a few seconds as the staff member gave your gray-eyed friend a small nod before excusing herself, saying she’ll have a chauffeur ready by the main entrance, in about fifteen minutes.                 
   
As soon as that was said, Mikasa grabbed your hand and you were threading up a staircase, and then past hallways lined with vases both empty, and some brimming with colorful flowers. From behind you, you could hear your friends also following your trail.  
   
It wasn’t long when you arrived in a rather large guestroom. The room was pretty much a bigger replica of the room you woke up in, just a few hours ago. This room looked more like a hotel suite actually, but one that only had beds in it, and a door to the side that you’re assuming leads to a bathroom.  
   
Like a military barracks, the beds were lined up and spaced evenly, though unlike the small beds in the military, these beds were queen-sized at best and there were about three beds on the wall to the right, and three on the left. They all looked like oversized marshmallows too. The pristine sheets making you think they were the perfect beds for a night of movie marathons and ice cream.  
   
There was also a dresser and some cabinets, both a smooth white color, contrasting to the beige painted walls, and the black wall clock above the door.  
   
Mikasa led you towards one of the beds where a black trolley and a knapsack stood at the floor of the bedside, and you quickly found out that these bags were yours, and they were filled with the luggage your friends took the liberty of packing for you, for this trip.  
   
As soon as Mikasa had dropped the hold on your hand, you could hear the rest of your friends arriving at the room, some of them expressing verbal awe at the place, while others stayed silent. A particular friend from the group walked over to you, her blue eyes mirroring worry as she placed a hand on the small of your back.  
   
“Are you alright, (F/n)?”  
   
You looked to the side, to meet Krista’s concerned features, to which you just smiled at her kindness.  
   
“I don’t think I’ll be okay anytime soon.” You admitted with a sigh. “But I’m getting there.”  
   
You soon found out Mikasa had this room arranged for you and your friends to stay in while on vacation. Given the circumstances you’ve gotten yourself involved with, and you were worried it was a burden on Mikasa’s family to set this up, but she only flicked your forehead painfully, while saying the place had a lot of empty rooms anyway, and her parents even suggested the idea in the first place (though if they didn’t, you had a feeling Mikasa would talk to them about it first).  
   
A few minutes were spent of your friends asking you if you were okay, followed by a surprising apology from Jean (you think Eren forced him into it), and then your friends started calling dibs on the beds they wanted, in which the girls took the right side, and the boys had the left.  
   
The arrangement on your side of the room, was Krista taking the middle bed, you sticking to the bed Mikasa led you to, which was on the left of Krista’s and the farthest from the room entrance, then another soft spoken friend named Mina, took the bed on Krista’s right. The boys on the other hand went with Armin in the middle, then Eren on the bed to his left and Jean on the right.  
   
You figured Mikasa would sleep in her actual room. This was her house after all, and upon asking, Mikasa said her room was just two doors down.  
   
There was honestly enough space to fit more beds and people in, and your mind drifted off to the few other friends who couldn’t make it to this trip. Marco, Jean’s best friend and a very close friend of yours, wasn’t able to come because he had prior arrangements to go home the first month of vacation. Annie, who was another long-time friend of yours, declined after she was accepted into a summer internship with two more friends of yours, Bertholdt and Reiner. Mina wasn’t about to make it too, but she decided to push her original plans away, claiming she rarely spent time in your group due to extracurricular activities, and so she wanted to make up for it.  
   
But when you thought about it, the fewer friends you had on this trip, the better it was, because you didn’t need more people to witness your stupidity first hand.  
   
After a few more minutes of idle talking, the woman from earlier came to the room, to inform everyone that a car was waiting by the entrance. At this, Mikasa excused herself from the group so she could change clothes for the evening. The ravenette girl then, following the maid only after informing everyone that she’d be back in a few minutes  
   
Eren and Jean were quick to fight for who should use the bathroom first, to which Armin took advantage of by bringing his change of clothes and a towel towards the bathroom door. Before the blond boy entered though, he silently asked if any of your girls wanted to go first, to which you, Krista, and Mina just shook your head no.  
   
Now that you thought about it, if you had been sleeping for nearly a day since you passed out, you definitely need to take a quick bath or something. But for now, as you were waiting for Armin, you were thinking about whether or not breaking up Eren and Jean was in order.  
   
When Armin came out of the bathroom looking refreshed however, you thought maybe the bath was more important this time around.  
   
Krista and Mina told you that you could go first when you looked at them inquiringly, and you looked towards Armin who was focused on trying to break up your two bickering friends. Thinking about a solution, you shrugged and quickly grabbed your change of clothes and a fresh towel someone had placed on your bed (all beds had them).  
   
And you walked to the bathroom as silently as you could, before you slammed the door and locked it fast, as soon as you were inside.  
   
Eren and Jean’s shouting quickly ceased at their actions, their offended gasps then making you smile at how exaggerated they were acting. Eren stayed silently grumbling while Jean was whining like a child as he kept telling you outside the door, of how you were unfair.  
   
The faint sound of a door opening, and a voice asking what was going on, told you that Mikasa was back, and she was probably being informed by Mina about the current situation. You were getting ready to take off your clothes and hop into the back when a particularly loud whine from Jean was followed by a certain brunette’s amused comment about: “Fuck, that sounded like a real horse.”  
   
The group’s little comments and what you could hear as Eren and Jean beginning another brawl of insults towards each other, stopped quickly though, when then heard a particularly loud snort from inside the bathroom though, as you failed to stifle a laugh.  
   
And you probably didn’t realize it, as you hopped into the glass stall of a shower and hummed a song you heard on the radio. But your friends did, unknowing smiles showing on their faces as they shared the realization in silence.  
   
It was the first time you laughed in over two weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Hello there! Feedback is appreciated if you could offer some (I'm kind of nervous because I'm convinced my writing style changed in a bad way) /)////(\\) I hope you all like this though!


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